


Suffering Always Ends

by CasyeTate55



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Attempted Kidnapping, Batfamily Feels, Broken Promises, Drama, F/M, Family Secrets, Fluff and Angst, Loss of Parent(s), Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7488972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasyeTate55/pseuds/CasyeTate55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izabelle Bryson is a nineteen year old secretary for the billionaire Bruce Wayne. As she progresses further in Bruce's life, her secrets start to be revealed one by one, even if she doesn't want them too.<br/>Dick Grayson falls for her beauty and her strength, doing everything he can to see her. As Izabelle and Nightwing grow closer, Grayson worries that Izabelle is falling for the mask and not him. But, he is very wrong. Izabelle is torn between Dick and Nightwing, oblivious to the fact that they are the same person.<br/>When a new hero, Nightingale, swings onto the scene with a loud mouth and a taste for guns, Nightwing struggles to watch her back. He has no idea who she is under the mask, and she does everything in her power to keep it that way. With shocking results.</p>
<p>Any character mentioned (apart from a few OC's) are not mine, but I wish they were sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, people of the Internet!  
> This is my first story, ever. I posted it on Wattpad, and my friend suggested that I post it on here too, considering I had an account but never really used it.  
> There will be swearing, so be warned. Izabelle is foul mouthed when she wants to be.  
> Sorry if there is any mistakes. I usually write whenever I get an idea, be that the middle of the night or day.  
> I hope you like it, anyway.  
> Cassidy xx

I leave my desk with an exhale, tucking my chair under my tidy area and I make my way through the hallway. Towards the other office. The door is open, light pooling out onto the grey carpet of the hallway floor.

"Goodbye, Mr. Wayne," I call into his office as I adjust my coat, eyes stinging with tiredness, hair starting to escape the sleek ponytail. Wisps of brown hair frame my face, and I rub my eyes, in a failing attempt at rubbing the sleepiness out of them. Bruce appears in the doorway of his large office, looking dapper in an expensive suit, his black hair messy from him running his hand through it in annoyance or stress. He has bags under his eyes and he looks just as tired as I feel, maybe worse. He is Bruce Wayne. He works harder than anyone I have ever met. He is a caring man, and he usually finds the time to say hello to me or any other employee in his line of sight. Bruce smiles, a look of concern flashing across his face.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride home?" He questions, running a hand through his shining black hair. "I can finish up and have Alfred drop you off." How gentlemanly. He offered to give me a lift home. Wayne is a nice boss. Thank God I got accepted into the job as he secretary. I'm only nineteen. I was told I was extremely clever, with high grades and no time for bullshit. Bruce saw that in me as I sat in the interview room, calm and collected. I knew I may get the job. I was surprised when I did. 

"It's fine, Mr. Wayne," I respond, adjusting my black handbag on my shoulder. "I'll be alright. The fresh air will do me good." He smiles at me again and gives me a little wave. I chuckle.

"See you tomorrow, Izabelle." He says, retreating back into his office. I watch him go, then blow a strand of hair out of my eyes.

"You too, Mr.Wayne." I reply, leaving. I make my way to the lift, thinking about how good my life is. I jam the button to call the lift, standing in wait. The door pings and I step in pressing the button for the ground floor. My stomach drops a little when I feel the lift move. I lean against the silver metal and sigh heavily. My job is so nice. It pays well, my boss is a lovely man, and it gives me a chance to live a little better than I used to. The lift pings and the doors open with a soft hiss and I make my way out, the cold air of the night hitting me gently, making me smile. It might be cold, but it woke me up a little. And the stars are out. Not often they are in Gotham City. My phone buzzes, and I stop walking for a second to retrieve it from my black bag. After a few seconds of feeling around the soft leather, I grab it and the screen lights up. A smile tugs at my face again. Bruce. I slide across and unlock my phone, to check and reply. _Boss: Are you safe?_ Yes, he is called 'Boss' in my phone. It is fitting, considering that is what he is. Typing a reply, I glance up every now and again to make sure I am walking in a straight line. I press send after telling Wayne I am okay and I slip it back in my bag. I stop to look at the stars, and I swear I see a black shadow pass quickly on the rooftop. I frown, staring at the spot I saw it. Might be my sleepy brain playing tricks on me. Maybe it wasn't. I shake my head and continue walking.  
***  
"Well, well, well," A heavy male voice says as I walk by an alley, hands seizing hold of my wrists and yanking me into the dark. I try to pull away, but he is much stronger than he looks. I am too shocked too scream. "Look what I have here." I search everywhere, my eyes moving all over, searching all over for a weapon of some sort or an escape. He pulls my bag away from me and hands it to the big, burly man behind him, all the while keeping a hand on my shoulder, pressing me against the dirty concrete wall. I see a gap and bolt, but I don't get far. He snatches hold of me again and spins me round, slamming me against the wall so hard my back burns with the impact. A pained cry escapes my lips. Not loud enough to be heard. Dammit... He chuckles, face extremely close to mine, so that I can smell his breath, the smoke, the alcohol. See every speckle of dirt embedded into his flesh. The dirty look to his eyes. He continues to laugh at my attempts to struggle free of his strong grasp. "You aren't going anywhere," He sneers, his friend still going through my handbag. Tears form in my eyes. I don't want this to be done, no, he has my fucking handbag. He can keep. One slides down my face and he wipes it away with a grimy finger. Bile rises up my throat and I swallow it thickly. _Somebody help me._ My brain tries to logically find an escape route, but when this animal of a man starts planting sloppy kisses on my neck and jaw all thoughts vanish as I scream bloody murder. His friend lands a few punches to my face, making my head spin. I feel the skin on my lip spilt, my eye ache, my nose bend. My vision goes black at the edges. Don't pass out. Don't, my brain reasons with me. I struggle harder, earning a heavy slap straight across the face. My head whips round and I catch sight of a black blur. 

Remove your hands from the woman," A deep voice snarls, making me jump. The men turn, one still pinning me against the wall. He stands there. Batman. The hero of the city. The hero I'd never seen, but wanted too. He seems like a nice man, even though he kicks a whole lot of ass. "Now." Batman's tone goes darker than his cape and the men spring away from me, going straight to the Bat himself. I cover a snort, stomach still churning. Are they fucking mad? This is _Batman._ They try and fight him, he'll put them in comas. He could break their bones with his little finger. I cover my mouth as the handbag one throws the first punch, Batman gliding out of his way and slamming his head against the wall. The other gets punched straight in the jaw. He drops. Batman looks at the two attackers, making sure they are down and out before bringing his masked eyes to me. I feel bile rise and I go over to a dumpster and throw up, throat burning, eyes stinging. A slight touch on my back makes me jump and nearly choke, but I catch sight of Batman rubbing my back softly. When I'm sure I just emptied my stomach, I straighten, wiping my eyes. Batman leaves go and I shudder in fear. He takes note of this and stands a little bit closer to me, as if offering protection. 

"Thank you," I mumble, voice hoarse and broken. "I'm Izabelle." Batman offers me his hand and I take it. Before I know what is going on, he sweeps me up bridal style, holding me against him with one arm and grappling to the roof with the other. I close my eyes tightly, stomach being shoved up into my lungs at the feeling. When I feel safer, I open my eyes and see Batman is on a roof. Casually walking along it. With no fucks to be given. Batman casts his eyes down at me. I shiver softly and I feel his arms tighten.

"Are you okay, Miss?" He questions, voice gentler than it was with the two bastards that attacked me. I hate being the damsel in distress, many people do, but I couldn't think straight. At all. Especially when he starting kissing my neck... I swallow again. I nod.

"Just a little sh-shaken up, that's all." I shiver as I say it, not because I'm cold. The shock settles in and I stare at the sky, trying to erase what happened. I can't, but still. Batman sets me down on the gravelly rooftop, wiping the blood away from my chin casually and holding my shoulders as I tremble, comforting me as much as he can. I feel warmth go through me at the kind gesture. Who knew the ass-kicking vigilante could be so gentle?

"Everything is all right now," He states carefully, as if trying to find the right words to say. "They are gone. You'll be okay." I nod and he sweeps me up again, making me squeak a little. He smirks at the stupid sound that escapes my lips. He continues to walk. I feel a little bit pathetic that he is carrying me. My knees are still weak, but I'm positive I can walk on my own. _I don't trust you too,_ my brain responds and I let out a puff of air, breath fogging up. 

"You do know I can walk, _Batman,_ " say, making sure there is a whole lot of emphasis on his name. Batman looks down at me, as if to say 'Yeah, right'. I let head drop back slightly, head aching from the movement. I bite my cheek lightly to stop a small groan of pain.

"Where do you live?" He asks me, swinging across a large gap between buildings. I twist my head around, trying to gather my bearings. Batman notices and stops. I make a sound of approval. Who said chivalry was dead? I recognise the rooftops, and point. He follows my finger and snorts. I punch him lightly in the shoulder and something like a chuckle escapes his lips. 

"Two streets to the left. My apartment is the one with the two windows wide open." He looks at me again and starts moving in the direction.

"In Gotham?" He says in a surprised tone. "Is that a good idea?" I snort, rolling my eyes. What a sassy prick. Like, damn. I never knew someone as sassy as him, only Bruce matches that. We have good banter, Bruce and I. He's a wonderful man. _Shut up, Izabelle_. I smack Batman's arm again, making a scoffing sound as I do so.

"Shut up," I say. "I like air in my house." He makes that sound again and the next thing I know he is standing in my bedroom, lying me down gently and returning to the window ledge, ready to jump out and leave me alone. He looks at me once more.

"Goodnight, Izabelle," He says in that voice that makes me grin. It sounds hilarious and I want to laugh, but I hold it back.

"Thank you, Batman," I say. "Goodbye." And with that, he is gone. I rest my head on my pillow and drift off, thinking about what to tell Bruce about my face tomorrow.


	2. Go With A Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzy is late to work, which Bruce is fine with. Until he sees her bruised face.  
> As if Izabelle's day can't get any worse, a face for her past resurfaces quickly, making Izabelle defend Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have four chapters of this nearly, but I just want to make sure they haven't got any mistakes. I hate making spelling mistakes. It drives me mad for some reason.   
> I hope you enjoy it, anyway.   
> If it's dialogue heavy, I apologise.  
> Casey xx

An alarm and a ringtone wake me up from my dreamless sleep and I groan, head banging harder than it was last night. Everything comes rushing back and I kick the sheets off me, eyes wide. What time is it? I glance at my alarm clock. 10:30 am. I'm an hour late. I grab my phone, which rings loudly, and answer the call. Bruce. Dammit. I jump up, trying to find something clean to wear. Something that hasn't got dirt on it or smallish drops of blood on it. 

"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry I'm late." I answer, voice strained. He makes a sound and I feel uncomfortable. Is he mad at me for being late? Sometimes, with Bruce, you can never tell. 

"It's quite all right, Izabelle," He says and I inwardly sigh in relief. Thank the Lord for that. "This is the first time you've been late. Are you all right?" I hear the note of worry and I feel a soft smile pull at my face. Trust Bruce to worry about me. How sweet. He treats me more like his daughter than his secretary. Not that I'm complaining. It's sweet. 

"I'll explain when I get there." I say, picking up a blouse I knocked on the floor. It smells like summer air and I search for a pair of black trousers. "I had a rough night." Bruce chuckles and something goes through me. I hope he doesn't feel bad for me getting hurt. I'll just tell him it was my fault for being an idiot. 

"I'll see you when you get here, then," Bruce says, and before I can even say goodbye, the line goes dead. Typical. He does that a lot when he's busy. I'm used to it. It doesn't bother me much. I mean, come on, he works really damn hard. Looks tired a lot of the time. Bless him. I run into my bathroom and close the cabinet door, glancing at my reflection in the clean mirror. I recoil in shock, back nearly meeting the wall. Fuck. My eye is black and blue, my lip swollen and scabbed over. My cheek has a small cut on it. I look a right state. And, I have no foundation left. I snort sarcastically, filling the sink with warm water. _Not like make-up could cover up that._ I stare at my reflection, flicking off the tap. I shimmy out of my shirt and slip out of the bottoms, stood in a lace white bra and panties while I ready myself to get a quick, proper wash. I'll shower when I get home. That bruise is one hell of a shiner. It looks like I've been in the ring. Damn, that guy did a number on me. I gently wash my face, the bruises aching when I touch them. Shit. I wash my neck, which has small bite marks. I feel the urge to vomit. Shit! That dirty bastard... Grunting in disgust, I wash the grime from last night off my skin and quickly slip into my work clothes. I grab my flats from outside the bathroom and pick up my bag... Wait... I stop, looking at it. Why is that here? I thought... A thought occurs to me and I pull my sleeves up, seeing something I hadn't paid attention too before. A bright purple bruise snakes out from under my sleeve, a stark contrast to the white bandages that cover them. Did Batman come back to check on me? I don't recall covering my big marks myself. They are only bruises. Why did he cover them? I shrug, unable to find an answer. I let my sleeve drop and pick up my bag, a thoughtful smile on my face. _Thank you, Batman._

***

The lift pings and I walk in, gaining a few looks from a few people as I pass with a bright smile, even though nervousness goes through me. Bruce is going to freak the fuck out when he sees my face. I enter my office, and close the door, rubbing my temples. I walk over to my desk, a stack of paperwork on top of it. A groan escapes my lips and I face-palm, making my face sting. I groan again, regretting the stupid thought to do that. A door creaks slightly, and I jerk up-right, ducking my face and grabbing a black ballpoint pen, taking the first sheet and reading through it, scanning it with ease. I really don't want Bruce to see my face. 

"I heard you groan," A voice says, making my head shoot up. Great. Bruce's eyes fall on my cheek and he leans across my desk, turning my head to the light to view it better. His blue eyes fill with an emotion I can't read. Bruce frowns in worry. This is not what I need... "What happened to your face?" He questions, voice lowered. I sigh. Should I tell him? Really? I don't want him to worry about me. At all. I can handle myself. _Like you handled yourself last night? Pfft, please,_ my brain sneers and I roll my eyes in retaliation to that thought.

"I... I got attacked, okay?" I say, trying to bat the image away with a mental stick. I feel bile rise, and I cover my mouth, clearing my throat of the foul taste. Bruce rests a hand on my shoulder. "Batman intervened before that man got what he wanted." I shudder and Bruce comes round the desk, dropping to my level, and taking the pen from my hands. He looks at me. He must sense that I am still a little bit upset about last night as he side hugs me. Bruce looks at me, concern in his blue eyes. 

"Take the day off, Izzy," He says gently. He moves the paper and straightens, offering me a hand. I look at him with a frown. I can't just do that. I have nothing better to do with my time. It was just a stupid creep trying to get some. And, I'm mentally stable. _You keep telling yourself that, honey._ I make a sound of irritation and pull the paper back in front of me. My phone rings and I let out another sound. Bruce walks off to give me some privacy. But, I know he'll be back over as soon as the call ends. He will not let it drop that easily. At all. Sometimes, I wish he would. It would make this so much easier to forget. if I'm alone, I'll think. And I don't want to think about anything. Nope. I'm fine, thanks. 

"Izzy, it's me, Darren." My heart stops and my breath hitches. Anger courses through me and I clench my fingers around the phone, heart hammering harder than ever. Great. last night and now this? What the fuck does this bastard want from me now? He hurt me in more ways than one. No girl (or boy) should have to face what I faced. Bruce knows what I went through. Bruce was kind enough to speak with me when Darren stormed in and threatened to beat me senseless. In front of Bruce and three other people. Bruce got him out and sat with me for a good few hours, offering hugs, tissues and ice cream. He knew exactly what I needed to make me feel better, the words to say. He said he'd protect me, and that is all he has done. I smile gently at the memory, but Darren's voice pull me back to reality.

"What do you want?" I say coldly, Bruce shooting me a look. I have never, ever spoken like that to anybody. I am usually kind, gentle and humorous. I never act like a bitch or speak to someone harshly. Usually sternly if they try to purposely piss me off. Darren is an exception. I can get as angry as I want with him, because he is basically a man-whore.

"You." Darren says in a soft, seductive voice. My heart screams in rage and I feel heat rise up face. I take a few deep breaths. Try to cool off before I say something I'll regret. I _am_ in front of my boss. I can't swear. I can't be an ass. In any way, shape or form. Meh. I stand thinking about it. What have I got to lose? Bruce doesn't seem to be listening. He probably is. He has his ways. Bruce is very... Mysterious. I don't mind. He has his secrets. I have mine. And, that's fine with me. _Do it._

"Look here, Darren, you ignorant prick," I snarl, the devil winning the battle in my head. "We're done. We've been done for a long time." Bruce watches me, his eyes full of... Pride? "Bring your filthy self anywhere near me and I will make sure you will never touch me again." As if on cue, Darren storms in, phone against his face. I close my eyes for a brief second, temper flaring. It cools off and I watch as Darren glares holes into Bruce. _Fucking brilliant._ This is just what I need. My angry ex attacking my boss... I freeze mid-step, looking at Darren, who advances on Bruce. Bruce looks around, as if trying to escape or grab something. Like I was doing last night. Darren moves. So do I. He runs at Bruce, anger evident. Bruce barely has time to react before I shoot across the desk, seize hold of Darren's shirt and slam him hard against the wall, pinning him there with my elbow. He struggles, but my anger powers my strength. "Get the _fuck_ out of this office or I will rip out your vocal cords and beat you to death with them." I snap, teeth gritted as I slam him against the wall, Bruce watching in shock, as well as a few people who gathered to watch the scene unfold. I let him go, and fold my arms, security taking over. I take shaky breaths, starting to calm down. He darts forward, but my hand catches him in the face. Wasn't aiming there, but that's where it landed. Oh, well. Darren is dragged away, kicking and screaming like a four year old and I stand with my arms crossed, looking pissed. I tap my foot, hearing Darren's yells of protest fade into silence. People stare for a few seconds longer before dispersing back to whatever they were doing before he tried to hit my boss. I promised myself a long time ago, I promised, that I wouldn't do that. Attack him. But, dammit, Darren is an ass. He could get hit by a fucking train tomorrow and I would cry... With laughter. I have never hated anyone as much as I hate him. He changed my life. He ruined it before Bruce gave me a job. Darren cannot come back into my life. I've only just recovered from the last bout of evil. With the help of my boss and my friends. But, dear God, I've never felt anymore empowered. I feel like I've won a battle I've been fighting for a long time. And, it's an amazing feeling to have. A smirk pastes itself on my lips. Damn. My elbow aches and I stretch my arm , hearing the joint crack loudly. The smirk fades. Ugh. 

"Izabelle..." I hear Bruce behind me, look over my shoulder. I can't tell if he's disgusted with me or not. Sighing, I walk back to my desk, snatch my bag and leave before Bruce can say a word or stop me. I leave as fast as I can, wanting to curl up and eat ice cream until my head clears enough for me to call Bruce or text him. I don't look back. Not once.


	3. Party Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her encounter with Darren, all Izzy wants to do is watch some tv.  
> But, Bruce shows up with an offer.  
> And, an intriguing guy stood beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. I edited this as soon as I woke up. I just needed my Internet speed to stop being an ass.  
> Yeah, anyway, I hope you enjoy it.  
> If it is short, just like on Wattpad, I ran out of ideas. I do run out of them from time to time.  
> Casey xx

Flopping down onto my couch with the tub of vanilla ice cream in my hand I lazily flick through the TV channels, trying to find something that won't make my brain melt. I have ignored every phone call from Bruce. I feel bad, but my head is full of crap. I know he just wants to check on me, but I don't feel that way. I feel disgusted with myself now for attacking Darren. Nothing can make me change my mind. With a frustrated growl, I throw my head back against the chair, staring at the darkened ceiling, the lamp the only light in my room. A knock on my door makes me choke on the next spoonful of ice cream. I spit the spoon out of my mouth, swallow, feeling the coldness as the ice cream painfully makes itself known. I cough a little, fingers gently caressing my sternum. Ow. _Fuck's sake._ I walk towards my door, open it. Bruce stands, hands in his pockets, a startlingly attractive guy stood behind him. Both dressed to perfection. The boy catches my eye and my breath hitches. _Damn._ His eyes are a bright shade of blue. A blush creeps up my face. I clear my throat. Look at my boss again, who has a smirk on his lips. I lean against the door frame, sighing. Why is Bruce here? And who is that adorable guy behind him?

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," I say politely, even though I don't have the ability to care. My voice sounds low and quiet. Bruce pushes me back inside, and I nearly trip over my shoes, but the cute guy catches my wrist and pulls me up right, smiling at me. His smile makes my heart do a full flip. It's beautiful. I know you don't call a guy beautiful, but damn, that is exactly what he is. I return his smile and see Bruce nearby, looking between us, a small smirk on his face. Hmph. I'm glad he finds this amusing. I do not. 

"Who is this wonderful young lady, Bruce?" The young man questions, and my face grows even hotter. Is he flirting with me? Or just being polite? _Or maybe he's being sarcastic, dumbass._ Bruce just has that dopey smirk on his face and I want to smack him. It isn't funny. Seriously. Bruce is up to something, and I want to know what. 

"Dick, this is Izabelle, my secretary," Bruce says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Izabelle, this is Dick Grayson." I smile at the young man, Dick Grayson, and shake his outstretched hand. Dick releases my hand, the skin tingling where he touched it. I can't like him. Nope. He is my boss' son. That does not appeal to my nature. No. I make a sound and walk towards my kitchen area, grabbing a glass and filling it with cold water. I lean against the side. 

"Would you like anything, boys?" I question, slipping into a more informal tone. I'm off work now, and so is Bruce. And, I'm being in one of those moods where I cannot be bothered with how I act. Even if I am in front of my boss. Both shake their heads and I take a sip of the ice cold water, throat dry. Jesus... Boys aren't worth my time. Darren proved that. "Why are you here, may I ask?" Bruce comes over, hands still shoved into his pockets, a look on his face that makes me want to slap him. He has something planned. If so, and it involves Dick bloody Grayson, I swear to God I'll drop kick him through the window. Not joking. Bruce rests his forearms on the counter, the black granite almost a match to his five hundred dollar jacket. He meets my questioning gaze and a small laugh escapes him. 

"I would like you to come to the charity ball on Friday," He says, making my head snap back up. What? Shit... I forgot all about it! I groan escapes me and I put my glass down, rubbing my eyes. What day is it today? I glance at the calendar stuck on my wall, and see it is Wednesday. Two days. Fuck. I return my eyes to Bruce. He shrugs, like it doesn't mean anything. He has know idea how insecure I am about my figure. I look fine, yes, I do, but my brain disagrees with me. I never had the courage to tell anyone. See anyone. I just deal with it on my own. Like I have been doing for years. You should try being in a relationship with a guy like Darren for a year and a half. You see what it does to you mentally. It fucks you up. In more ways than one. A puff of air escapes me and I purse my lips. Dick watches from the living room, before returning his gaze to my wall, scanning pictures carefully, learning a little more about me, without having to ask, while I speak with Bruce. How can I escape this?

"Erm, I don't know, Mr.Wayne." I answer, voice a little too shaky for my liking. Bruce sighs, lowering his head and eyes to meet my downcast gaze.

"It's the least I could offer, Izabelle," He says with a smile in his voice. "You stopped that Darren from attacking me. I didn't see it coming. I've never seen you so protective over me and ready to defend." I raise my eyes and feel a little lighter about myself. So, Bruce isn't mad at me? Huh. Not what I was expecting. I should go. He has a point. I did get a wave of protectiveness over my boss, And a wave of anger than I couldn't repress. Darren had no reason to burst in and ruin my day. I blink a few times, a hand waving past my eyes, making me tune back into the real world with a start. "Well?" Bruce asks and I snicker, slapping his shoulder softly. 

"Fine, Mr. Wayne, you win." I say and Bruce just smirks. He pushes off the counter.

"Wasn't going to let you say no anyway," I freeze and look at him. Rolling my eyes, I shake my head, and pick up my glass again, taking another sip. "We better get going. I'll see you at work, Izabelle." Bruce ruffles my hair and I grunt, ducking out of his way. I flatten my hair and Dick snorts, catching my eye. A blush coats my cheeks and Bruce waits for Dick near the door. Dick slowly walks towards Bruce, backwards, blue eyes never leaving. I wave a little and a smirk pastes itself on his face. His cheeks, I swear to God, go a dusty shade of pink. 

"Goodbye, you two," I say as Bruce grins. Bruce nods in farewell, as does Dick. He pulls the door closed and I am left in silence. I make a sound of pleasure, draining my glass, and turning to put it in the sink. Maybe the gala Bruce has planned won't be as horrible as I think it will be. Especially if Mr. Grayson is there.


	4. Nightwing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izabelle gets a surprise visit from on of Gotham's finest: Nightwing.  
> Izzy gives him a helping hand when he needs it. In a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I haven't added much or really been in. I broke my arm and just struggled to edit properly with one hand.  
> It was my friend's fault, but it was funny. Until I clicked onto the fact my elbow and forearm hurt. Yep. That happened.  
> I'll update it more. Promise.  
> Oh, the next chp[ter may shift to Dick Grayson's POV (Point Of View). Then back to Izzy. I'll try not to make it confusing.  
> Pardon any errors. Hope you enjoy.   
> Cassidy xx

Typing away on my laptop, I hear my window slide open. Glancing up, I see a man in black, a blue bird on the chest of his uniform. Startled, I jump up, and nearly trip over my chair. Nightwing? Why is he here? Flicking the lamp on, near my laptop, I sigh heavily. It is Nightwing. I thought it was. He is well built, shiny black hair, and a smile on his face that makes me feel weak in the knees. Holy shit. He's just as handsome as Dick Grayson. _Izzy, stop it._ He glances around my apartment, sees random dresses chucked on the sofa. I fold my arms, feeling slightly revealed. I am wearing a pair of loose white shorts and a tank top. It was too warm in my apartment, and even with a window wide open to let the air in, I couldn't cool off. It was really warm today. Still is, if I am honest. Not usually nice in Gotham. Sunny days should be valued. Very valued.

"Why are you here?" I ask, and I mentally facepalm at how bitchy that sounded coming out of my mouth. Nightwing turns his head to me and shrugs, going over to the kitchen and grabbing the first aid kit on the side, returning to his position. Silence. I make a huffing noise. And I thought Batman was the quiet one. Pfft. Batman talked more than this dick. I roll my eyes, watching him as he plays with the green box. What does he need that for? I glance around when he sends me a look. Can't catch him staring, can I? That would be so awkward. I would curl up in my bedroom and die. Yes; I just said that. Deal with it. 

"Batman told me to check on you." He states simply and I smile to myself at how kind that gesture was. But, I don't need protecting. Or looking over. I can defend myself. I just got... Distracted the last time. I shove the thought away. Change my train of thought. It's still nice, though. Even in the dim light, I see a patch of blood on his shoulder and feel sorry for him instantly. That's why he needed the kit. He's hurt. His mouth sets into a tight line and he pulls at the ripped black fabric. A noise of pain escapes him and I go over slowly. He looks up sharply. Like he is careful around me. Cautious. Shy? Maybe. Possibly. I wouldn't know. I'm not a damn detective. It would be cool if I was. Barbara's dad is such a damn badass. Like, seriously. If you don;t agree, the door is that way. 

"Sorry," I say quietly. He smiles tightly. I grab some gauze and, as gently and carefully as I can, wipe the red liquid away from the wound. He sits quietly, but I feel his pain. "I'm sorry." I repeat when he flinches again. He grabs my hand and my skin tingles at the contact. He makes me look at him. I swallow, cheeks heating up. Why am I so... Nervous around him? He's just a guy. I can deal with it. It's not like I can feel the muscle under my fingers as I wipe at the blood. Carefully. This wound must hurt like a bitch. 

"Don't be," He says in a low voice. "I should have been more careful." I nod once, and he lets go of my slender hand slowly. I return to my work and clear the wound. Grabbing some balled up cotton, I press it against the wound, stopping the blood flow in its tracks. Nightwing watches me as I press my lips together, waiting for the wound to cease bleeding. The pressure is hard, but not enough to hurt him. Wiping on bloody hand on my shorts, I keep hold of the cotton ball and look through the box, grabbing some bandages and placing them on my knee. I pull the cotton ball back, the wound still seeping blood, but at a slower pace. I change the cotton ball. It is red with his blood. I grab a fresh one. Throw the other one into the trash. Nightwing smiles. I feel a blush spread across my face. Again. Christ on the cross, I'm acting like a total child. I do not enjoy this feeling. At all. In the slightest. 

"You're being extremely gentle," He states and I smile at Nightwing, eyes still aiming at the kit as I eye the needle and thread. I might need them, but I'll wait until the wound has stopped bleeding to see if its easier to stitch or bandage. It's hard to tell at the moment. I focus on Nightwing and what he said. 

"I don't want to hurt you," I reply, glancing back up at his masked face. "Where did you get this? It looks like it's from a six inch blade." Nightwing flicks his gaze at me, a look of surprise crossing his face. I wonder why, as I remove the ball and see the wound has stopped bleeding. I grab the bandages, unrolling the soft white material. I make a sound, trying to decide if it needs stitching or just covering up. Nightwing clears his throat and I look up. Meet his masked eyes. 

"Good observation, there, Miss," He says. "I was stopping some guys and he slashed at me with a kitchen knife." I wince at that statement, feeling his pain. Ouch. That must suck. It isn't long, but it is deep. I place the fabric down and shift his sleeve further down. He frowns. 

"Sorry, Nightwing, but that needs stitching. I don't think wrapping it is going to hold." He sits quietly for a few seconds. I might have fucked up there. _Give him the option, stupid._. "I-I mean I could stitch it, if you w-want." I stumble over my words and he chuckles softly at my obvious embarrassment. He shrugs, then winces, grabbing at his shoulder. I seize hold of his hand, stopping him short. He goes red and I chuckle back, tension unwinding from me. 

"Yeah, you can sew me up," He says with a short laugh. I smile and place his hand down, grabbing the needle and thread. I place the needle in my line of sight, readying my hand. With ease, I thread the needle and pull the string through, not having a hitch or missing the eye of the needle. I begin sewing and he groans a little. I pull a face at his pain. 

"Sorry," I say quietly, focusing on my work. He smiles again, the tightness of his mouth obvious. "Batman won't be happy that you got hurt." Nightwing snorts, sitting extremely still while I sew up the wound quickly, but carefully. I hate to see this hot hero in pain. I hate seeing _anyone_ in pain. It makes me feel terrible. I like helping people in anyway I can. I donate to charity whenever I get paid, I help out the homeless if I see them on the street. I do whatever I can for people who are worse of than me. Because I know what it is like.

"What's with all of the dresses?" He asks, gesturing with his free arm to the multi-coloured mass on the floor. I chuckle, barely sparing a glance to them. I lean a little closer so I can see where I am threading, and smell the copper on his uniform. I blink a few times, clearing my eyes of the man who attacked me and swallow, trying to answer Nightwing's question. 

"My boss, Bruce Wayne, invited me to his charity ball on Friday," I answer, finishing the stitch. I feel around the kit. Where did I put the medical scissors? They were in the box. "Shit. Can you hold this for me while I look for the scissors?" He nods, his fingers brushing mine as I leave the needle go and get up, in search. I spot them on the counter and make a sound, retrieving them. I return, and Nightwing smiles at me. I snip the thread and lift his arm, placing it on the back of my sofa, giving me a little space to cover the stitches. Nightwing holds up a finger and I stop. He slides his injured arm out of the sleeve, and I see the pale skin of his arm, the defined shoulder. I swallow and smile at him. He knew. I wrap the fabric around quickly and tie it. He grins, rolls his shoulder once. 

"Thanks, you're a life-saver," He says, making another hot blush creep up my neck. He gets up and goes to the window. "Thank you, Izabelle. You did a better job than I would be able to." I smile warmly. 

"You're welcome, Nightwing. Thanks for checking up on me." He nods and in the blink of an eye, he is gone. I watch him swing away, and I pull my window shut, leaving it unlocked, just in case. I return to the couch, glancing at the clock. Twelve. I better clean up and sleep. I have work tomorrow. And a dress to buy. I need Barbara's help. I'll call her when my shift ends and see if she wants a girl's day. I need a new dress, and I know she is going to enjoy it.


	5. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick returns to the Batcave, tired. But, he has only one person running through his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup. Phew! I found my story again. I have a temper and I cleared my whole laptop but a friend found it and I'm so happy. I don't think I'd be able to re-write it. I find it difficult to write in a guy's perspective. But, I've done it before and it seemed okay. To me.  
> Anyway... Bruce ships Dick and Izzy hard (like, come on, why would he bother introducing the pair? XD)  
> Sorry if it so short.  
> Pardon any errors.  
> I hope you enjoy.  
> Cassidy xx

**Dick Grayson's POV (Point Of View):**

He walks into the cave, rolling his injured shoulder, wincing. Bruce sees him and comes over to greet Dick. His watchful eye catching sight of the bloody patch on his uniform and grabbing his shoulder. Dick can't help but groan at the rough touch. He misses Izzy's hands, so deft and gentle as she cleaned his wound and patched him up like a pro. Bruce moves his sleeve and sees the work. He frowns. Flicks his blue eyes up towards Dick's.

"This is well done," Bruce says, examining the bandage Izabelle had wrapped around the shoulder. Dick nods. "Who did it?" Grayson hears the edge to his voice, and he shifts out of Bruce's hold, trying to clear his mind of Izabelle's beautiful eyes, how the green glittered in the dim lighting of the room. She looked a little nervous as she stood in her comfy clothes. She was a little revealed. Probably wasn't expecting a visit from Nightwing. Batman didn't send him; he swung by because he wanted to see her again. She is extremely pretty. Kind. Caring. He can see that by the expressions she threw Bruce, the gentle look in her green eyes. 

"Izabelle." Dick says simply. Bruce watches Dick retreat to the chair in front of the Bat computer with a smirk on his lips. "She wouldn't let me do it myself." Bruce nods and Dick takes his mask off, tossing it to the side with a sigh. His shoulder throbs. He drifts off back into his thoughts, thinking about Izabelle. She had no idea it was him under the mask, and he was glad he had an excuse to see her. Her hair was messy and made her look adorable. Her green eyes were so full of light. He thinks about how she made him feel. How her smile made him go dizzy. How her soft touch sent shivers down his spine. Dick rests his chin on his knee, exhaling. He can't stop thinking about how her face looked when she was concentrating, sewing his shoulder. Izzy was making sure it was done properly. He smiles softly at the way she didn't give two shits about his blood. She just wiped her hand on her shorts. And returned to her work, without a care in the world. Dick thinks about what Bruce told him. When Bruce came home from work today, looking shocked and his phone pressed against his ear, Dick had thought something bad had happened. But, no, Bruce was trying to get in contact with Izabelle, who was blatantly ignoring him. The colour in Bruce's face was fading before his eyes. He thought Bruce was going to faint. Bruce had explained that Izzy wasn't answering her phone and he was worried about her after she walked out of the office. Dick offered to go with him to see if she was okay, but Bruce said they'd check later in the day. Dick was amazed at how beautiful she was. Her long hazel hair. Her smile. Her tall, slender frame. He wonders if she'll dance with him at the gala. He hopes she will. Someone taps him and Dick jumps, gasping slightly. 

"You started zoning out," Bruce says smugly. Dick scoffs, running a hand through his hair. "What are you thinking about?" Grayson rolls his eyes, heat rising up into his face. This is not awkward at all. How can he tell Bruce he likes Izzy's personality. Looks are just a bonus in his eyes. 

"Nothing." Bruce makes a scoffing noise, ruffling Dick's hair. Dick tuts, shifting, flattening the few black strands that stick up. Bruce shrugs, as if taking it well. Dick knows he won't. Bruce Wayne is up to something. Dick will find out. Bruce starts to walk away casually, cape flicking out behind him. Bruce stops, and Dick faces the Bat computer, looking at it with tired blue eyes. 

"She's single." Bruce states, making Dick whirl round in the black leather chair, so fast he nearly falls over the arm rest. Bruce snorts and Dick recovers quickly, hissing some sort of curse. 

"Who? Izabelle?" Dick questions, getting a short nod and a smug smirk from Bruce. Grayson sighs, watching Bruce retreat from the Cave. Dick spins round in the chair, thinking about Friday. Thinking about Izzy. Soon after, he gets up, eyes stinging with tiredness and follows after Bruce, thinking about sleeping. 


	6. Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izabelle and Barbara Gordon go out looking for a dress, Barbara driving Izzy insane with mentions of a certain someone. Constantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya people,  
> Another update. I've been working on it lately, which is why it wasn't out as quickly. It seemed WAY too short for my liking, so I added a little bit to it to try and stretch it out.  
> I hope you enjoy it, anyway.  
> Pardon any errors.  
> Casey xx

Sunlight streaks through the window, lighting up the kitchen in a golden glow. The granite shines. The warm smell of maple syrup fills the air. The pan sizzles as I flip the pancake, happier than normal. Whistling a random tune, I place the pan back down, flicking a white towel over my shoulder. Grabbing a clean plate had set out on the side ready, I place it down. Within easy reach. Checking on the pancake, I see it is done. I turn the oven off, grabbing the bottle of maple syrup and setting it near the plate. I return my attention to pan. The doorbell rings loudly and I sigh. Flattening my hair and wiping my hands on the towel, I quickly rush around. 

"Coming!" I call as I tip the food on the plate and go towards the door. Unlocking it, I pull it open. Arms grab me and pull me into a hug. The smell of coconut fills my nose, the ginger strands tickling my cheek. I hug back, chuckling in the person's ear. Barbara. I pull back and haul her in, Barbara laughing at my bouncy walk. I grab the plate and push it to Babs. She raises an eyebrow. I shrug, turning the oven back on and grabbing the leftover pancake mix. She continues looking at me in confusion. "I know you like my pancakes," I say and she nods, grabbing the silver fork and twirling it around her slim fingers. She over dramatically slumps on the bar tool, closing her eyes. I stifle a laugh. 

"Your pancakes are to die for." She says with a flurry of her hand. Rolling my eyes, I set my attention on the cooking, ears open in case Barbara say something. The only sound I can hear right now from her is her eating the food I made. Hey, I know she likes them. And, she might as well have it. It means I don't have to clean up. I flick my gaze up at my best friend, who sits, playing on her phone. Content, the plate of food almost empty. A small smile pulls at my face. Without Barbara Gordon, I wouldn't have made it through the years. She is one of the greatest people I know. I have had the honour to watch her blossom into the beautiful young lady she is today. Turning the oven off, I sort out my own pancakes, sitting near Babs, who smiles at me. She is dressed in some causal denim jeans. Her black leather jacket. Her clean, shiny ginger hair is in a neat ponytail, some strands clipped back from her face. I wolf down my pancakes and get up. She hands me her plate and smiles. I quickly wash them up in the warm water. It was hot before, but it has cooled. Babs appears next to me, drying the things I wash. This is friendship. No, not us washing the dishes. Babs is classic. Funny. Helpful. Hell, I keep banging on about how good Barbara is. I think I should shut up. Seriously, she's lovely. Okay. I'll stop. 

"So," Barbara says, wiping her hands on towel, giving me a sly smile. I empty the sink, the water draining quickly. I look her in the eye. She leans against the towel and granite. Raises an eyebrow. "Are you ready to go get that dress for Grayson?" I feel a blush crawl up my neck and I scowl at her, eyes flashing. She snickers at my dirty look. I roll my eyes and I swallow. 

"The dress is not for Grayson," I state clearly. The young woman pulls a face and I sigh. "But, yes, I am ready. Let's go." Grabbing my bag, and catching my keys as Barbara throws them, we leave. This should be good. As long as Barbara keeps her mouth bloody shut about Dick Grayson. 

***  
I stand in one of the changing rooms with Barbara, her ginger hair clipped back neatly, her glasses being pushed up her nose while she waits for me to come out in the red dress she picked out. We take turns picking the dress for me. Hers is red. It looked beautiful, but I'm not sure. It seems a little... Low around the front. I fiddle with the end of my ponytail, looking at myself in the mirror. I sigh. Step out. Barbara looks up from her copy of Vogue, looking me up and down. I twirl slightly, so she can see the back. Barbara chuckles and I roll my eyes, turning to face her in irritation. Ugh. I am beginning to hate this. I've been trying on dresses for an hour. 

"Too revealing." She says simply, before returning her pretty eyes to her magazine, handing me another dress on a hangar. "Try this." I take it from her with a huff, making her giggle. With Babs, I can always be happy. She takes my mind off work. And, it's been a good few weeks since we've seen each other and had a proper conversation and a girly time. Slipping out of the red dress, I sigh, hearing Barbara stand. She pokes her head in and waggles her eyebrows. I roll my eyes, taking the dress off the hangar and sliding it up my legs, the sequins sharp against my bare skin. I turn and Barbara hums, zipping it up. I turn. She whistles. The dress is floor length and gold, the top made with sequins, and the fabric below the waist shimmering. Barbara nods. I grin widely and she pulls her phone. Takes a picture. 

"How do I look then?" I ask, looking Barbara in the eye. She just grins and waggles her perfectly shaped eyebrows again, making me snort with amusement. 

"With a smile like that and a dress like this, you're a knockout." She says. "You look stunning, Izzy." I smile again, feeling special. I do a twirl, and she laughs, squealing in joy. I have a pair of gold heels, so I'll be alright using them. Barbara said she'd do my hair and make-up and I'll do hers. I cannot wait for tomorrow. At all. I slip out of the dress and shimmy back into my clothes as fast as I can. I slow my pace, checking the price tag. What? I nearly choke on my next breath. Five hundred dollars?! Good God Almighty. Barbara sees my shocked expression and rolls her eyes, taking it. I look at my empty hands and glance at Barbara, watching her leave me. I snatch hold of my bag and follow her quickly, smoothing my hair down. Barbara stands near the cash register by the time I get there, waiting for me to catch up. Miss Gordon just smirks. 

"No." I say, reaching for the dress. She moves her long arm out of my way, the dress swinging lightly with the movement. I groan quietly. "Barbara, no. It's way too expensive. You are not paying for that." She smirks and pulls her purse. I give her a warning look and the pretty female cashier laughs at the look I shoot Babs. Ugh. I let out a sigh and rub my temples, head banging. My eye has started to fade in colour, turning to a dirty brown-blue. My lip has nearly healed completely. Make-up will do so much, but you'll still be able to see it. Not that it bothers me. I still get a little nervous on my own, and Bruce's wonderful English butler, Alfred has driven me home when I stayed late. He is a charming old man, and it's nice to hear someone who has an accent like mine. Mine is starting to shift to American, but whenever I use a certain type of tone, you can hear how English I am. Especially if I am annoyed. You can hear the lilt of my English accent to my words. It's not often I get annoyed. It's nice to slip into my old accent with someone who still has it. 

"Would you relax? It's not my money," She replies, keeping the dress out of my reach. "Bruce said it's on him." I grunt in surprise. Why? I gesture, pulling a confused expression. Barbara smiles at my expression, keeping the dress out of my reach. She must think I'm acting. I've done it before. Acted like I was fine with it, and when Barbara relaxed, I got it back. She learned after that not to agree with me and wait until she is sure that I am fine with it. 

"He said you deserve it, Izabelle. You've been brave, apparently, and worked really damn hard." I smile at his consideration. He knew I was scared when Darren came, and he knew it took a lot to defend him. I smile at her and she pays the blonde cashier, who disappears with the dress, to get it bagged. A squeal escapes Barbara and I chuckle. She grabs my shoulders with her hands and shakes me a few times, making me laugh. She's in such a bouncy mood. 

"I'm actually warming up to the idea of tomorrow night," I smile warmly at my friend. She waggles her eyebrows and I snort, punching her in the arm lightly. If she mentions him, I swear to the Lord, I'll slap her silly. She will. This is Barbara Gordon. She knows what to say and when to say it. Sometimes it's good. Others? Not so nice. Especially when it involves guys. Have any of you seen Hercules? The Disney movie? Well, picture this for a second. I'm Meg and Barbara is the muses. Yep. It's just like that. Every time she finds out there is a guy and I might have my eye on him. I don't have an eye on Dick Grayson. I do not. Nope. Don't look at me like that. I don't. 

"Just because Grayson is going to be there," She says in a sly tone, grinning. Dammit, I knew she was going to say Grayson. I knew it. I know Barbara Gordon to damn well. I scoff, rolling my eyes, praying the heat in my face isn't visible. She pinches my cheek and I hiss, jerking out of her reach. I rub the skin where she nipped. Babs just snorts, the cashier appearing, a black cover hiding the dress from my view. Barbara nods in thanks at the woman, and I pick up the smooth bag of the dress and swing it off the counter. We leave together. I open to door, and let Babs out first. She smiles.

"It's not because Grayson is going to be there." I reply. Barbara just looks at me and snickers. Ugh. She walks backwards for few seconds, smirking at me in a knowing way.

"Yes it is," She states, as if she knows it. I roll my eyes again, scooping the dress up and heading towards a small diner. She follows.

"Wanna bet on it?" I retort, eyeing Babs with disdain. She grins, nodding.

"Fine." She says, heading into the diner. We sit together in a small booth. She runs a finger across the edge of the cream table, thinking. "Fifty bucks on Dick asking you to dinner." I consider, fiddling with my hair. I put out a hand and she takes it, the grin widening even more.

"Prepare to lose, honey," She says and we settle down, bet set. I'm fucked.


End file.
